


blinking in the starlight

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tangled AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: Princess Daisy was stolen from the King and Queen of Providence not long after her birth, but Phil and Melinda release lanterns on her birthday every year, in the hopes she'll some day return to them. Not far away, a girl named Skye watches the floating lights she sees on her birthday every year and feels a longing she doesn't understand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's finished! I didn't think I'd ever actually get this up, but it's complete and posted and I'm so proud of it. Title is from I See The Light, from Tangled. I really hope you enjoy this!

Phil and Melinda had been the king and queen of Providence for many years- their kingdom flourished under their kind rule, and they were happily in love. But while they’d been married for years, they had no children, despite both longing to be parents- until finally, after many years of waiting, they announced they had an heir on the way.

The kingdom was overjoyed for their king and queen, and their kingdom in general- so much so, that when Melinda fell ill only weeks before the birth of their child, the entire kingdom offered suggestions. When a healer by the name of Christine told them of a plant that could help the queen- a magical flower that glowed during song and could cure any ailment- Phil immediately sent his guards to look for it.

They discovered it on a cliff side five days later, glowing through the fog of the early morning as though someone had just been singing. The head guard, Steve, carefully picked the flower, leaving the roots as instructed by Christine, and took his fastest horse to bring the plant back to the palace where Phil waited.

Unbeknownst to them, a local crone by the name of Jiaying used the plant herself- selfishly keeping herself young and beautiful through the flower’s properties. She watched as the guards took the plant, and she cursed under her breath- she hadn’t completed the lullaby, and the wrinkles on her hands were already deepening.

Back at the palace, Christine brewed a pot of broth from the flower’s roots, crushing up the petals just as the liquid came to boil. The castle staff watched her anxiously, while upstairs Phil sat at Melinda’s bedside, holding her hand as she lay in bed, weakened.

“You have to save her first,” Melinda murmured, and Phil shook his head, kissing her fingertips. “Yes, Phil. You have to, please.”

“I can’t lose you,” his whisper is broken, and Melinda raises a shaking hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing along the stubble that had formed there over the last few days.

The melancholy moment is broken by Christine entering the bedchamber, bowl in hand. Phil immediately stands, taking it from her.

“I don’t know if this will cure her, sire,” her voice is soft, though her eyes meet his with quiet determination.

“It has to,” is his simple reply, before he turns, helping Melinda sit up and guiding her hands to place the bowl to her lips. The shimmering golden liquid gleamed in the low light as she drank, and the entire room gasped as their queen began to softly glow herself.

Moments passed, and Phil set the bowl aside, waiting as Melinda closed her eyes, taking a breath. “Lin?”

Melinda opened her eyes as she sat up- she extended her arms and flexed her fingers, all signs of weakness gone, before her hands cupped the swell of her abdomen, lips curling into a soft smile.

“She’s moving,” she looks up at Phil, tears in her eyes- she reaches for one of his hands, guiding it to the spot, and his face creased into a smile as the kick he felt. The entire room relaxed as their queen showed all signs of health, and Christine’s shoulders slackened in relief.

She turns to go when Phil speaks up, reluctantly leaving Melinda’s side to come take Christine’s hand. “Thank you, Christine,” his face is open and eager, and she’s reminded once more how much the king truly loved his wife. “I’d like you to stay on as the royal healer, if you’ll take the job. I can’t imagine anyone I’d entrust my family and their health to than you.”

“I…of course, my king,” she replies, stunned, and Phil’s smile is brilliant before Melinda calls him back over and he takes his leave of her.

“I can help you move your things into the palace, if you like,” she looks up at the chief guard’s voice- Steve, she reminds herself. He’d brought the herb directly to her himself, his blue eyes shining and worried as he watched her prepare the remedy. He’d been in charge of the king and queen’s guard since the moment Phil had been crowned king at age 16, when his father Robert, the previous king, had fallen ill and died. Phil’s mother, Queen Julie, had died only months after Phil and Melinda- the eldest princess of a neighboring kingdom- had wed nearly two years later.

Steve had been Phil’s best friend growing up, and they still occasionally sparred when there was free time. More often than not Phil was trying to get Steve to agree to a game of chess in the library in the evening, with the tall, blonde man shaking his head in amusement as Melinda watched them both fondly.

“Thank you,” Christine replies, giving him a soft smile as they left the king and queen’s room, following behind the other guards that had filtered into the room.

Alone, Phil bends down, kissing Melinda as she sighed, fingers carding through his hair as she pulled him as close as the curve of her belly allowed.

“I’m really alright, my love, I promise,” her voice is soft as they break apart, and Phil’s palm spans the crest of her abdomen, thumb brushing along it in a sweeping motion that seems to lull their child from its restlessness.

“I love you both- so much,” his voice breaks a little, and Melinda’s hands cup his cheeks, tilting his head until his gaze met hers.

“And we love you,” her dark eyes are warm, and she leans up, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead. “We’re not going anywhere- I promise you.”

His lips quirk at that before he bends down again, lips soft against hers.

“You _are_ going to shave, though,” she tells him, and he raises an eyebrow as she drags her nails lightly through the scruff covering his face. “Before you address the kingdom and assure them I’m alright, and that our princess is alright.”

“You know, we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. I don’t quite trust Clint’s…alternative methods,” he tells her, and Melinda shakes her head, one hand resting against the side of her stomach.

“I just know. We’re having a girl,” she tells him, lips quirking at the kick to her palm. “And I can already tell she’s as much of a troublemaker as her father.”

Phil laughs, shaking his head, and bends to kiss her through the cloth of her dress. “Alright, Princess, let your mother rest.”

Melinda cards her hand through Phil’s hair, smiling, before she allows him to tuck her in and drifts off.

The next few weeks are a blur of finishing preparations for the nursery and showing Christine the old healer’s chambers that hadn’t been touched in months, and constantly debating about names for their child.

Christine is checking on Melinda one such morning- she was nearly due, and miserable; it was the height of summer and the castle was like walking through an oven at times, the stones so hot they were nearly scorching. Melinda was confined to their bedroom, the balcony doors thrown wide open in an attempt to keep the airflow going.

“We are not naming our child after your grandmother,” Melinda folds her arms crossly as Phil leans against the opposite wall- he was dressed in a thin shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and laces at the neck loosened, sweat beading on his chest in the heat.

“I think Mildred is a fine name,” Phil argues, and Christine doesn’t quite manage to stifle her giggle as she listens to Melinda’s heart beating, pleased with its pace. “Do you disagree, Christine?”

“I simply think Mildred is a name for a 50 year old woman, sire,” she answers, and Melinda nods, gesturing.

“See! I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she tells Phil, who merely rolls her eyes as she sits back, triumphant.

“Well, what do you think, Christine?” Phil asks, and Christine is quiet as she packs up her things, thoughtful.

“You know, I found the name of the flower we used to save your life, in a passage in one of the books from the old healer’s chambers,” she tells them, and they both lean forward in interest. Christine tucks some hair behind her ear, looking between the two of them.

“Well?” Melinda asks, and Christine smiles as she answers.

“It’s called a Sun Daisy Flower.”

_

Princess Daisy enters the world five days later, with a shock of blonde hair that stuns both her parents, though Christine contributes it to the properties of the golden flower.

She’s a happy, gurgling baby, adored by her parents and her kingdom, and wraps the entire castle around her tiny little fingers in mere moments. Phil and Melinda were enamored with their daughter, constantly showering with affection and murmuring how much they loved her.

In honor of her birth, on the first day they showed her to the public, they released a lantern, covered in a design of suns, into the sky. Daisy watched attentively as it drifted upwards before she began to play with her mother’s hair, fingers twining in the thick, dark strands. She fell asleep not long after, secure in Melinda’s embrace with the kingdom’s eyes on her, warm and content.

A soft-around-the-edges peace settled over the kingdom for a few days as Daisy’s birth was celebrated, before one single night shattered it.

Daisy lay sound asleep in her crib, thumb in her mouth- the window was open, as it had been hot during the day, and a dark-caped figure crept in. It towered over the child before it began to sing in an old, weathered voice.

The baby’s hair began to glow, the blonde strands turning gold at the sound of the lullaby, and the figure reached a gnarled hand forward, twining a few strands around it. As the song continued, the skin regained its vitality, losing the wrinkles and leaving behind smooth, tanned skin. The hood of the cloak fell back, and the moonlight revealed the once-again young face of the crone Jiaying.

She went to cut the hair, content to have a small piece to use to keep her youth- but the moment she cut the blonde strands, they lost their glow and turned dark brown, similar to the queen’s hair color. She dropped the hair, hissing as the spell ended. She had her youth, but the hair she’d cut was useless, and she knew in a second what she had to do.

She scooped the infant up, startling her awake and drawing ragged, sobbing cries from her- she looked over her shoulder, the sound of footsteps coming, and headed for the balcony. She was just at the edge when the door burst open- the king and queen had only a glimpse of a shadowy figure before she disappeared.

Their daughter’s scream was what woke Phil and Melinda from their slumber- they both shot up, out of bed in an instant as they rushed down the hall to Daisy’s nursery. Phil pushed the door open to reveal a dark figure with a screaming Daisy in their arms; the shadow disappeared off the edge of the balcony, and before Phil could even turn around Steve was yelling orders, sprinting down the hallway.

Melinda’s knees buckled, and Phil caught up, cradling her to his chest as a sob burst forth from her lips.

“We will find her, Melinda,” he whispers, holding her tightly as his fingers stroked through her hair, holding her as her entire body shook. “Steve will find her and bring whoever has taken her to justice.”

Steve and his guard searched the kingdom high and low, for many long weeks that turned to months. They questioned every member of the kingdom, they brought out the little-used search dogs, and ran themselves ragged looking for Princess Daisy. It was with a heavy heart that Steve stood before his king and queen, telling them they could find no sign of the princess, or the unknown enemy that had stolen her. Phil and Melinda poured over possible kingdoms that may have taken her to use as a bargaining chip, but came up empty- even Loki’s kingdom opened their gates to allowed Steve’s guards to search for her, bearing no ill will towards the new parents.

“She’s gone,” Melinda finally admitted softly one day as they sat in the study, sorting through letters of condolence from neighboring kingdoms. Phil looked up- he’d been reading a letter sent to them from Princess Natasha, in the North, and his heart sunk at the utter heartbreak on his wife’s face.

“Melinda…” he starts, and she shakes her head, gathering herself up.

“It’s been almost a year,” her voice wavers faintly, and he watches her swallow, pain settling in his chest. “Her birthday is in a week. I think we should…remember her.”

Phil nods and sits back, beckoning his wife over. She settled in his lap, head on his chest and her palm over his heart.

“I think we should release lanterns on her birthday,” she whispers as Phil’s hand strokes through her hair in a rhythmic motion. “Maybe someday- some way- she’ll find her way home. To us.”

Phil kissed the top of her head, swallowing hard, before he nodded.

_

The worst thing, they discovered, was the false hope they’d get every time someone claimed to have found the princess.

They had set a reward in the hopes that the kidnapper could be appeased by money, but within the first year, realized it would only lead to more heartbreak. To see a small child with dark hair and features similar to Melinda’s, but never actually be Daisy, hurt her more than she could ever say. She simply wanted her daughter back, and as more and more time passed, she found her hope fading more and more.

After two years, they removed the reward. They’d seen nearly fifty little girls people claimed to be Daisy, but none of them were. Phil and Melinda quietly retreated more and more into the castle, leaving on fewer trips and spending more time in the darkened, shadowed halls.

Daisy’s future crown still sat in the royal hall under guard, waiting for the day she’d be able to wear it, but Melinda believed less every day that would ever happen. She began to pull away- from Phil, from her sisters, from everyone. The queen became reclusive, choosing to do her morning exercises in her room and never venturing farther than the dining table each evening.

Finally, after nearly six months of feeling his wife pull away from him, Phil finds her in the library one evening.

“Please don’t push me away,” his voice is laced with begging, but he doesn’t care. She looks up from the book she’d been pretending to read, dark eyes clouded with the sadness that hadn’t left since their daughter had been taken. “Please, Lin, I can’t lose you too, I can’t- you mean everything to me, and without you I can hardly breathe.”

His head drops into his hands as he sinks into the chair opposite hers, and he can’t fight the tears that he’s held in for much too long. There’s a moment of silence before Melinda’s hands are warm and soft on his neck, and she pushes him back until she can climb into his lap, holding him tightly against her.

“I can’t do this by myself,” he whispers brokenly, and he feels her swallow, her nails running through the hair at the base of his neck.

“I miss our daughter,” she finally murmurs, pain in her voice. “I still feel like a mother, but our child is gone. Someone took her. She’s out there somewhere and she needs me and I’m not there. She’s walking and talking and growing every day and we are missing every single second with her, Phil. How can this have happened to us?”

He looked up at her- her eyes were damp to match his, and he reached one hand up to cup her cheek, Melinda’s smaller fingers coming up to cover Phil’s.

“We have to believe she’ll come home,” he starts, and Melinda begins to shake her head. “We have to, Lin. We have to believe she’s out there, and alive, and as safe and as happy as she can be while she’s away from us. We will always be her parents, and we will always love her, and this will always, always be her home to come back to. But we have to keep living- for her. So she has a place of love and warmth to come back to.”

Melinda looked at him for a moment before her head sunk to down his, foreheads touching. “I don’t think I could have another child just to lose them.”

Her confession is soft, but Phil hears it, and nods.

“I cannot lose another child,” he whispered back, swallowing hard. “And I cannot lose you. You are enough. Daisy is enough, wherever she is. This…this is enough for me, Melinda. You as my queen and a hope our daughter will return to us.”

Melinda kissed him then, a hard, messy thing that had him clutching her impossibly closer as her hands wrapped around his neck. They were both panting when they pulled back, eyes meeting.

“You have always been enough, my king,” she whispered, stroking his skin softly. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Phil picked her up, eliciting a soft gasp and the hint of a smile from his wife as she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest and gazing out the window at the stars as a peace she hadn’t known for weeks settled over her.

Little did she know that a shockingly short distance away, her daughter looked up at the same night sky.

_

From a young age, Skye had always snuck to the window to watch the lights that floated across the sky on her birthday- she knew they weren’t for her, but it felt special, to pretend they could be. Without fail, every year, they were there- one of the few constants in her life she enjoyed.

Life in the tower was boring, and repetitive, and lonely. She painted as much as possible, and read the books Mother brought back from her travels. But for most of the last eighteen years, Skye had been alone in this tower, watching her hair grow and grow and grow. Now, just days before her eighteenth birthday, her hair trailed dozens and dozens of feet behind her. The golden color had always felt so off to her, with her tan skin and dark eyes, but her mother insisted it had been this way since she was born.

She finished cleaning the breakfast dishes and laid down on the stone floor of the tower with a sigh, the cool stone a balm against the hot air trapped inside the building. She was near dozing when the shout came.

“Skye! Let down your hair!”

She sighed, getting up and going to the window, wrapping her hair around the hook on the window before she threw it out the window, wincing a little at the tug as Mother began to climb up the tower wall. Once she reached the top Skye helped her over the ledge, unhooking her hair from the wall and gathering it behind her.

“That looks simply exhausting, darling, I don’t know how you do it every day,” Jiaying told her, and Skye mustered up a smile, shrugging.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, and Jiaying taps her nose lightly with her pointer finger.

“Then I’m really not sure why it takes you so long,” is her sing-song response, and Skye gives an awkward, forced laugh. “Oh, I’m only teasing.”

Jiaying goes to set her basket down on the table and Skye trails after her, wringing her hands.

“So, Mother, as you know tomorrow is a pretty big day,” she starts, and Jiaying continues pulling things out of her basket, so Skye pushes forward. “It’s my birthday.”

“I distinctly remember your birthday being last year,” Jiaying turns to face her, arms folded and eyebrow raised.

“Funny thing about birthdays- they’re kind of a continual thing. Never go away,” Skye replies, and Jiaying looks unamused. “And, I only want one thing- one! I’ve…actually wanted it for a lot of birthdays, now, but I’m turning eighteen, and…”

“Skye, you have got to stop mumbling and get to your point, darling,” Jiaying interrupts, and Skye feels her hands trembling at her sides.

“I want to see the floating lights, Mother,” Skye finally spits out all at once. Jiaying pauses, slowly raising her head to look at her.

“What?”

“I want you to take me to see the floating lights,” Skye repeats, pushing a curtain aside to show the painting she’d done earlier, of the floating lights in a sea of blue sky, Skye sitting on a hill and gazing up at the stars.

“Oh- you want to see the stars,” Jiaying says, and Skye shakes her head slowly.

“No, see- I’ve charted stars, and these have no pattern like any star in the sky. They appear on my birthday, and only on my birthday. I can’t help feeling like…like they’re meant for _me_. Just me.”

Skye swallows, “I have to see them, Mother. And not just from the window. I need to see them in person.”

“You want to go outside? Skye, we have talked about this,” Jiaying said, and when Skye opened her mouth to protest, she merely shook her head. “I know best, Skye. You are not to leave this tower.”

Jiaying stepped forward, cupping Skye’s cheeks and kissing her forehead softly. “I’m just keeping you safe, my flower.”

Skye nodded, gaze cast downward, and Jiaying helped her hook her hair to the wall before she descended, calling up to tell her she’d be back soon.

“I’ll be here,” Skye mumbled, waiting until she felt Jiaying’s weight leave her hair, letting the blonde strands sway in the wind.

_

She’s reading a book on how to properly cook bacon for the millionth time when she hears it- the sound of metal on stone. She silently moves to the window, looking over at the hula doll she’d deemed her only friend years ago, and swallowing hard before she peeked her head out.

Someone was scaling the tower, jamming arrows between the stones and hoisting themselves up, and she felt panic settle in her chest. Eyes scanning around the tower, Skye picked up an old, rusty frying pan, wielding it like a weapon as she waited for the stranger to reach the window, hiding in the shadows.

He jumped the ledge with a breathless laugh, shutting the doors and straightening up, panting as he removed a satchel from over his head, holding a brown leather bag in two hands. He opened it, peering inside.

“Alone at last,” he murmured to whatever was in the bag, just before Skye smacked him over the head with the frying pan, and he crumpled to the ground. Skye gave a small shriek before she hid behind a mannequin Mother used when she made her the occasional dress, frying pan still in hand as she peeked her head around the pink bodice.

The man was lying face down, unmoving, and Skye reluctantly crept forward, prodding at the back of his head with the frying pan. Still no movement, and Skye looked at her hula doll before she carefully pushed his head sideways until she could see his face- a strong jawbone, dark sideburns that scruffed up his cheeks. He was nice to look at- nothing like what Mother had described to her.

He stirred, groaning, and blinked open one dark eye- Skye smacked him with the pan again, and he went silent, eyes closed.

Using her hair, Skye dragged him over to the closet- after various failed attempts, she finally got it shut with him inside, and she let out a startled laugh.

“I’ve got a _person_ in my _closet_ ,” she exclaims to her reflection in the mirror, another laugh bubbling up inside her. “Mother thinks I’m too weak to handle myself out there, but with this frying pan-“

She spun the pan on her finger but misjudged the distance and smacked herself in the temple with it- she let out a soft sob of pain, headache blossoming in her skull. Something glints in the mirror, and she frowns, turning and digging around in the stranger’s satchel until she pulls out a glittery coronet, covered in jewels and gleaming in the light.

It’s easily the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and she doesn’t quite know what, but something compels her to put it on. She turns to face the mirror, and slowly places the golden circle on her head- she lets out a soft gasp, the green and red jewels catching in the laugh, and something warm and peaceful fills her chest, unfamiliar and strange.

“Skye!” Mother’s voice rings out from the ground, and Skye gasps, taking the crown from her head and shoving it in the satchel, quickly putting it inside a large, unused stone pot and going to hook her hair to let Jiaying up. “I brought back parsnips for the hazelnut soup- I know it’s your favorite.”

Skye nods, looking uneasily at the closet- part of her wants to tell her mother what she’s done, but before she can speak, Jiaying is speaking again.

“I hope you’re done with the lights now, Skye. You are not leaving this tower, ever. Are we clear?” Skye swallows again the rocks in her throat, giving a nod.

“I…know what I’d like. For my birthday,” she replies softly, and Jiaying waits, eyebrow arched. “New paint? The one you made with the white shells, from a few years ago.”

“That’s quite a trip. I won’t be back for at least three days,” Jiaying replies, and Skye waits, holding her breath, before her mother shrugs. “If that’s really what you want.”

“It is,” Skye replies, and Jiaying comes forward to brush a kiss against her forehead.

“You’ll be alright, by yourself?” she asks, and Skye nods.

“I know I’m safe as long as I’m in here,” she answers, and Jiaying gives a bemused smirk at that.

“Well, I’ll leave now. Be careful, darling,” her mother tells her, a sharp eye watching her as she begins to descend down the tower wall, and Skye exhales shakily as she waits until Jiaying has touched the ground before bringing her hair back up.

Contemplating the wardrobe, she manages to get the stranger into the chair, and carefully knots her hair strategically to keep him in place. Brandishing her frying pan once more, she throws some water in his face, waking him up with a gasp.

“What on earth…” the man starts, spluttering around the water and blinking, squinting at her through the dim light of the tower. “Am I wrapped in hair?”

“Struggling…struggling is pointless,” Skye stammers, hidden in the shadows. The man looks confused, and Skye takes a few more steps forward. “I know why you’re here, and I’m- I’m not afraid of you.”

“What?” the stranger sounds downright perplexed, and Skye swallows thickly before she steps forward into the light so he can fully see her.

“Who are you, and how did you find me?” she asks, and the stranger’s eyes are wide as they take her in. “I _said_ , who are you, and how did you find me?”

“Well, girl, I’m Trip. And can I just ask- how are you doing today?” Skye blinks, frowning, as the man before her gives her a grin, wide enough that her knees wobble just a little. Then she frowns, waving the frying pan around a little.

“Who else knows my location, _Trip_?” she puts a little threat in her voice, and the man- Trip- just smiles a little more.

“Listen, blondie-“

“Skye,” she corrects, and Trip raises an eyebrow before he shrugs.

“See, I was in a bit of a…situation. Gallivanting through the forest. And then, I found your tower- purely out of convenience. To store my…wait, oh no, where is it? Where is my satchel?” panic layers his voice, and Skye squares her shoulders.

“I’ve hidden it,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “Somewhere you’ll never find it.”

Trip looked around silently for a moment before nodding. “It’s in that pot, isn’t it?”

Skye’s lips parted and there was a moment of silence before she smacked him with the frying pan again; while he was out, she hid the satchel under the loose step in the stairs, out of sight. Trip is out for a short while, and when he awakens again, he groans in pain.

“ _Now_ it’s hidden somewhere you’ll never find it,” she tells him, and Trip hangs his head. “So what do you want with my hair? To cut it? Sell it?”

“ _What?_ ” Trip asks, incredulous, before shaking his head. “Girl the only thing I want to do with your hair is get out of it- _literally_.”

“Wait- you don’t want my hair?” Skye frowns in confusion.

“No! Listen- I was being chased, I saw a tower, I climbed it. End of story,” Trip replies, and Skye’s frown deepens.

“You’re telling the truth?” she asks, and Trip nods. Skye sizes him up for a moment before she goes to the wall, pulling back the curtain. “Do you know what this is?”

“The lantern thing the king and queen do for the lost princess?” Trip asks, and Skye looks at it, lips parting.

“I _knew_ it wasn’t stars,” she whispers to herself, looking at the painting. “Tomorrow night these lanterns will be lit. You will be my guide, and take me to see these lanterns. Once I’m home safe, then I will return your satchel to you.”

“Yeah…no can do,” Trip answers. “The kingdom and I aren’t exactly…friendly, currently.”

Skye took a breath, coming over and leaning over Trip, glaring. “You can tear this tower apart brick by brick, but without my help, you will never, ever find your satchel.”

Trip contemplated her for a moment. “If I take you to see the lanterns you’ll really return my satchel?”

“I promise,” Skye tips the chair a little, holding it taut with her hair and looking Trip in the eye. “And when I make a promise, I always keep it. _Always._ ”

Trip looked her in the eyes for a moment before sighing, turning his head a little. “I really didn’t want to have to do this- but you leave me no choice. Here comes the smolder.”

He does some weird contortion of his face, lips puckered and pink, eyes narrowed and dark, almost burning. Skye simply looks at him, unmoving. “This is kind of an off day for me- this doesn’t usually happen.”

Skye continues to stare at him, and he sighs. “Fine. I’ll take you to see the lanterns.”

Skye squeals, jumping back and losing her grip on the chair- Trip pitched forward, hitting the stone floor.

“You broke my smolder.”

_

“Coming, blondie?” Trip calls up, and Skye steps forward another inch, toe dangling off the edge of the window as she looks down at where he’s standing on the ground. Her frying pan is tucked under her arm, and with a breath, she glides down until her foot is a mere inch from the ground. With a breath, she stepped down.

The feeling of grass and dirt beneath her toes is foreign, and she huffs out a laugh, digging her toes into the ground and giggling at the squelch of mud beneath her toes.

“It’s so big,” she looks around in awe, and Trip laughs.

“You’ve never left that tower, have you?” he asks, and Skye shakes her head.

“My mother never let me,” she answers, and her face pales. “Mother. Oh she’s going to kill me.”

“You are just going to break her heart, girl. Damn near crush her soul,” Trip says, squashing a berry between his fingers as Skye looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Break her heart? Crush her soul?” Skye asks, and Trip nods.

“Like a grape,” he demonstrates on another berry. He looks at Skye and sighs, touching her shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but…I’m letting you out of the deal.”

“What?” Skye asks, and Trip nods, handing her her fry pan back.

“We’ll get you back to your tower- I’ll get my satchel back, you’ll get back your trusting relationship with your mother. All’s well that ends well,” he replies, and Skye shoves at him, shaking her head.

“I am seeing those lanterns, and you are taking me there,” she points her finger at him, and Trip huffs.

“Oh come on,” Trip nearly whined, and Skye dragged him forward. “Alright, fine. But I need food, and I know just the place.”

 _Just the place_ was a terrifying-looking bar, and Skye gathers her hair in her hands as they weave through a crowd of ruffians and thugs. Her heart thuds in her ears, and she swallows hard against the terror rushing through her veins.

“You know, Goldie, if you can’t handle this place, maybe we should just get you home…” Trip says, guiding her towards the door- but before they could get there, the door is shut, and a tall, brute-ish looking man glowers down at Trip, a wanted poster in his hand.

“This you?” he asks, and Trip moves his finger, displaying a Pinocchio-length nose.

“Now they’re just being mean,” he mutters, and the thug grins, showcasing missing teeth.

“It’s him- send for a palace guard,” he tells another ruffian, who goes through the door. There’s a tussle as all the patrons attempt to get a hand on him, and Skye huffs, finally smacking one of them with her frying pan.

“Let my guide go!” she cried, and the entire place stopped as they slowly turned to face her. “I need him! Please let him go! All I want is to see the lights, and he can take me there, and- and haven’t any of you ever had a dream?”

There’s a pause, and finally one ruffian speaks up.

“I like to bake,” the large man confesses in a quiet voice. There’s another pause before someone else speaks.

“I want to be a florist,” he admits, and soon enough, every ruffian and thug is talking over one another. Skye beams, listening to each of them, until the door bursts open.

“Guards are here!”

The original thug to corner them pulls a lever at the bar, revealing a trap door. “Go on- live your dream.”

Skye smiles, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. “Thank you, Gordon. You too- you’d be a lovely teacher.”

The ruffian blushes, and Skye tugs Trip after her down into the tunnel. It’s musty, and filled with cobwebs- Skye frowns distastefully as they walk, eyes widening in horror at the skeleton they encounter. The sounds of the bar and the kingdom guards fade behind them, and she takes a breath.

“You know that was…that was pretty impressive, back there,” Trip tells her, and Skye beams.

“I didn’t even know I had that in me! I just…I had to get them to stop, and they listened to me!” there’s excitement in her voice, and Trip watches almost-fondly as she bounces as she walks. “So…Trip. Where’re you from?”

“No no no blondie, I don’t do backstory,” he tells her. “I am, however, curious about yours. Can I ask about the hair?”

“Nope,” Skye pops the p, and Trip snorts affectionately.

“The mother?” Skye shakes her head. “Can I ask why a fry pan?”

“First thing I grabbed,” she shrugs, and Trip laughs.

“Well, I have another question. If you want to see the lights so badly…why haven’t you gone before?” he asks, and Skye gives a nervous laugh- she looks up, promptly getting it with a falling pebble, and they both frown, looking up as the ground above and around and below them shakes.

“Um…Trip?” Skye asks as the sight of kingdom guards comes over the hill behind them.

“Run,” Trip tells her, and together they gather her hair into her arms and take off. The tunnel ends and they step out into a canyon, a water wheel beside them and a gaping, wide-open space before them.

Below them, a sealed-off entrance breaks apart under the kicks of two dark-haired men who glare up at Trip. Skye looks at him. “Who are they?”

“They do not like me,” he answers, and behind them, guards start to spill out of the entrance. “And neither do they. Basically, no one likes me.”

“Hang on,” Skye gets a grip on her hair after giving him the frying pan and tosses it, securing it around a wooden beam. She could swear she hears one of the guards calling out for “May? But…”, but she ignores it, instead swinging across the canyon and landing on the opposite ledge. Trip stands there, frying pan in hand, as the first guard advances on him- Skye winces as he starts to fight the guards, but he’s surprisingly good with the cooking utensil.

“Oh, Mama I have got to get me one of these!” Trip cries out once all the guards are down, tossing the pan from hand to hand and grinning. Skye tosses him her hair, and swings him over to her side- but the guards are already kicking down the beams holding up the water wheel- both Skye and Trip start to run, heading for a gap in the stones as water begins to flood behind them.

They barely get inside before a rock rolls over the entrance and water begins to slowly pour into the room at their feet. They went as high up as they could go, but the water kept coming, and the rocks were jammed together. Skye hit the rocks with the frying pan, but they refused to budge- Trip took a deep breath, diving down into the water, but he surfaced, gasping and shaking his head.

“It’s pitch black down there- I can’t see anything,” he tells her, and Skye sits on the highest rock, starting to cry.

“I’m so sorry, Trip. I should never have dragged you on this stupid adventure,” she sobs, rubbing at her eyes. Trip sits beside her, and takes a breath.

“Antoine,” he corrects, and she looks at him. “My real name is Antoine Triplett. Figure someone should know.”

Skye smiles through her tears, and takes her own breath. “I have magic hair that glows when I sing.”

“What?” Trip asked, brow furrowing. Skye’s eyes widened, lips parting.

“I…have magic hair that glows when I sing,” she holds up the wet hair, looking at Trip. The water continues to rise, and she starts to sing. “Flower gleam and glow; let your power shine-”

The water rises, cutting her off, but she finishes the song in her head- and through the darkness, the bright glow of her hair cuts through. Trip blinked his eyes open under the water, and promptly pushed all the air out of his lungs- Skye looked down the glowing column of hair and they both watched as her hair was pulled to a section of rocks where air was draining.

Together they swam down and began pushing at the rocks- vision darkening, Trip shoved until his hand went through and he felt outside air; the remaining rocks shifted and they both tumbled down into the river below, gasping for air. They both reached the far bank and lay against the shore, panting but alive.

“Your hair glows,” he says, eyes wide. “It- it actually glows. I wasn’t expecting that. Girl, your hair literally glows.”

He looked straight ahead, shell-shocked, as Skye got out, beginning the process of wringing the long blonde locks out. “Antoine- Antoine.”

He finally looked up, clutching his hand- a long cut bled red, and Skye offered a small smile.

“It doesn’t just glow,” she tells him, and Trip gulps. He finally climbs out of the river, and together they set up a small campsite- Trip finds some wood, and starts a fire to dry them off further.

Skye sits Trip down on a log and begins wrapping her hair around his injured hand- he looks at her, confused, but allows her to continue. “So you’re being strangely cryptic as you wrap your magic hair around my injured hand.”

He winces, and she touches his wrist with light fingers. “Sorry. Just…just don’t- freak out. Okay?”

Skye sighed, then dipped her head as she began to sing. “Flower gleam and glow; let your power shine. Make the clock reverse- bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt; change the Fate’s design; save what has been lost- bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.”

Her hair stopped glowing and Trip carefully unwrapped the strands from his hand- he gaped, revealing unblemished skin.

“Don’t- freak out,” she said before he could shriek, and he inhales sharply.

“Freak out who’s freaking out I’m not freaking out I’m just very interested in your hair and the magical properties it possesses how long has it been doing that exactly?” he asks all in one breath, and Skye can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes her.

“Forever, I guess?” she replies, shrugging. “Mother says when I was a baby, people tried to cut it.”

She turns, lifting up the blonde locks to reveal a collection of short, dark hair- it’s brownish red and shiny against the blonde. “She said they tried to take it for its power- but once it’s cut, it turns to this color and loses its power.”

Trip looks at her, dark eyes soft, and Skye sighed.

“A gift like that…it has to be protected. That’s why Mother never-” she cuts herself off, looking down. “It’s why I never left. Why I’ve stayed up in that tower.”

“And you’re…still gonna go back?” he asks, brow crinkling.

“No,” Skye replies, resolute, before her face changes. “Yes. I mean…it’s complicated.”

She drops her face into her hands, sighing. Finally she looked up, propping her chin up on one fist.

“So…Antoine Triplett, huh?” she asks, and he shrugs.

“I’ll save you the sob story of poor orphan Antoine Triplett. It’s a long and sad one,” he tells her, and she scoots closer, elbows on her knees. He chuckles. “I read a lot, and all the heroes went by their last name. Lancelot was my favorite.”

“Was he a thief too?” she asks, and Trip shakes his head.

“Well…no. He was a hero,” he shrugs, and Skye touches his arm. “I should go get more firewood.”

He stands, and Skye’s hand drops, and as he walks away she calls out.

“Just so you know, I like Antoine a lot more than I like just Trip,” she tells him, and his lips curl into a soft smile.

“You’d be the first,” he tells her before he heads off to find more wood.

“Alone at last- I thought he’d never leave,” Skye jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, turning to find her coming out from behind one of the nearby rocks. “Come on, Skye. We’re going home.”

“I can’t, Mother. I’m seeing and learning so much- I even met someone,” Skye tells her, and Jiaying scoffs.

“Ah, yes, the wanted thief- I’m so proud,” there’s mocking in her tone, and Skye fights against the hand she wraps around her wrist.

“But Mother, I- I think he likes me,” Skye takes a step back, and Jiaying lets out a laugh.

“Likes you? Please Skye, that’s absurd. This is why you never should have left the tower,” her voice is almost cruel as she looks at Skye. “This romance you’ve invented just proves you are too naïve to be out here.”

Jiaying begins to walk away, looking over her shoulder.

“Really, Skye. Why would he like _you_? It’s just ridiculous. Come now, listen to Mother.”

“No,” Skye tells her forcefully, and Jiaying turns to face her fully.

“No?” she asks, and juts her chin, a dark, cruel look in her eyes. “ _Oh_.”

She produces a familiar-looking satchel from behind her back, and Skye frowns. “He’s here for this, Skye- not you. You want to test him? Give him this- see what he does.”

“Fine! I will!” Skye cries, yanking the satchel from her mother and clutching it to her chest.

“I won’t say I told you so,” Jiaying’s voice is sing-song, and she slips away. “But don’t come crying to Mother when I’m right and you’re wrong.”

Skye is breathing hard when she hears Trip’s voice coming closer, and she ducks, hiding the satchel in the roots of a tree and slowing her heart rate as Trip begins to talk about getting super-strength from her hair. She can’t help the smile, listening to him ramble as he feeds more wood into the fire.

“Hey- you okay?” he asks, and she looks up, blinking.

“Oh- yeah. Just…lost in thought, I guess,” she answers, giving him a smile, and he looks at her for a moment before he nods, adding a few more sticks to the blaze.

“Because see- superhuman good looks? I’ve always had them,” he starts, and Skye rolls her eyes fondly.

She falls asleep to Trip’s soft, steady voice rambling on.

_

Skye wakes to the distant sound of bells, and she’s up on her feet in no time, dragging Trip with her. He’s sleepy but follows her easily, listening to her ramble excitedly as they head for the city. It’s closer than either of them are expecting, and they duck behind some trees at the sound of horses, watching as a handful of palace guards canter by.

Skye gasps as they enter the city- even in the early morning, it’s bustling with people, and she walks forward, unthinking about the trail of hair behind her. But then it’s run over by a cart, and stepped on by passerby, and pecked at by chickens. Trip helps her gather it up into their arms, and he looks around- he grins when he spots three girls braiding each other’s hair by the fountain, and whistles to get their attention. When he motions to the length of hair in their arms, six eyes light up in excitement.

Between the three of them, they braid the long length into an intricate braid that just brushes Skye’s ankles; in the golden hair are twined flowers and ribbons and bows, and Skye spins, laughing, waiting for Trip’s approval once the girls are done. Her dark eyes are alight with fire and excitement, and the girls settle a braided crown of wildflowers atop her head to complete the look.

Trip slips them the few coins he has, and they scamper off in excitement, looking for a vendor’s stall to spend their newly-acquired wealth at.

Skye is fascinated by everything- the vendors, the flags of purple material with golden suns imprinted on them, the people and animals and noise. She flies through the straights, running her fingers over oranges and apples and more exotic things- a pineapple, and a lizard in the square on a chain.

She’s waiting in line for some kind of food that smells sweet and doughy when she sees the mosaic mural, and she wanders over to it. At the base is a mother and two small children- the little girl places a flower at the feet of the king and queen before looking at her little brother.

“It’s for the lost princess,” she explains, and Skye looks up at the mosaic again, the infant in the queen’s arms with big brown eyes and bright blonde hair.

When Trip looks up from paying for the bread and cheese a few feet away, Skye is dancing to the sound of a few musicians in the courtyard- she grins, pulling a little boy in with her, and before his eyes, he watches her draw in more dancers. Soon, the whole courtyard is filled with dancing, and she beckons to him- he tries to say no, but she bats her eyelashes and he’s sucked in. Before he can reach her though, they switch to different partners, and he watches her twirl away.

The song reaches his end, and just has the last note dies, Skye is in his arms, panting and laughing and grinning from ear to ear. Her joy is contagious, and Trip grins down at her, captivated by the light shimmering in her eyes.

They pass a little boy selling purple flags with hearts on them as they head to the marina, and Trip gives him a few coins before he hands the flag to Skye, who takes it with an awed look on her face.

When they get to the marina, Trip guides her to a boat- once he helps her in, he pushes them off and grabs an oar, beginning to row them towards the center of the sea. Skye looks at him, an amused expression playing around her lips.

“Where are we going?”

“Best day of your life? Figured you’d want a front row seat,” he tells her, and her eyes widen as she looks out over the waves.

The sun has dipped below the horizon by the time they reach the center of the lake, and Trip drops the anchor so they stay in position. Skye leans her elbows on the side of the boat and hefts a sigh, and Trip leans next to her. “You okay?”

“I’m terrified,” she admits softly, and Trip leans a little closer.

“Why?” he asks, and Skye lets out a long breath.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years, wondering what it would feel like to see these lights up close,” she tells him, looking up at the skyline of the castle before them. “What if it’s not everything that I dreamed it would be?”

She can feel Trip watching her out of the corner of her eye, his smile soft. “It will be.”

“And what if it is?” she asks, turning to face him. “What do I do then?”

“Well that’s the good part, I guess,” Trip answers, looking out at the other boats beginning to float around them. “You get to go find a new dream.”

Skye smiled.

_

Melinda adjusted the chain around Phil’s neck, fingers soft as they went through the ritual motions, as they did every year. Eighteen years of lighting lanterns. Eighteen years of missing their daughter. Eighteen years of watching the sky light up with lanterns and hoping their daughter was somewhere, seeing those same lights.

She looked up from the insignia on his chest to look at his face- her heart broke at the tears that filled his eyes, a lone tear track marring his right cheek. She lifted her hand, brushing the drop away and cupping his cheek in her hand; Phil leaned into her touch, closing his eyes, and Melinda took a breath.

“I love you,” her whisper is soft, and Phil clutches her a little closer, palms warm even through her dress. “They’re waiting.”

Together, they push open the heavy wooden door to the terrace, and Melinda’s heart swells at the sight of their kingdom lining the streets, lanterns in hand. It’s the most bittersweet feeling- her daughter had been gone for eighteen years, and still the people of their kingdom mourned her loss with them. Still helped them hold out hope that she would come home- see these lanterns and know they’re for her, somehow.

Looking up at Phil and holding his gaze, together they released the lantern from the ribbons and pushed it upward- his arm slid around her shoulders, holding her to him, as the paper lantern drifted upwards. The light slithered through the kingdom as the trail of lanterns lifted, and Melinda swallowed hard.

“Happy Birthday, Daisy,” she whispered, hand resting over Phil’s heart as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “We miss you.”

Lanterns drifted out to sea, and Melinda closed her eyes.

_

Out on the sea, Skye was placing flowers on the water as Trip took them from her hair, and she gasps when she sees the first light rising in the reflection on the water. She nearly rocks the boat, jerking forward, and it’s only Trip that steadies them.

She leans against the bow of the boat- the lanterns drift from the castle, a sea of shining yellow and orange light, and something in Skye’s chest is warm and soft and purring. Everything is shimmering around the edges, and nothing has ever felt more perfect or beautiful in her entire life.

She turns to find Trip smiling at her, a lantern in each hand, and her heart stutters in her chest. She settles across the bench from him, and makes a decision.

“I have something for you too,” she tells him, and draws out the satchel. “I should have given it to you before, but I was scared. And the thing is…I’m not scared anymore. Know what I mean?”

Trip looks at her for a long moment, eyes soft, before he gently lowers the satchel with his hand. “I’m starting to.”

Skye smiles, soft and bright, and together they push the lanterns into the sky together. She’s breathless and dizzy and it’s exhilarating- her hand finds Trip’s, and she squeezes gently. He smiles at her, the light of the lanterns flickering around him, and Trip’s hand is warm and solid as it cups her neck after brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face.

They’re both leaning in when he pauses, and she frowns, concern lining her face as her free hand touches his chest lightly.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and Trip seems to come out of his trance.

“What? Yes- yes, of course. There’s just…something I need to do,” he tells her, and she nods, helping him row to the far shore. He jumps off the boat, tugging it onto the sand. Once it’s secure, he takes the satchel. “Everything is fine, I promise. There’s just something I need to take care of.”

Skye nods, watching him go, the pit of her stomach still warm.

But soon enough, fog begins to roll in, and Skye shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. Nerves set in, and she’s on edge when she hears footsteps. But the outline is Trip’s, and she sighs in relief.

“I was beginning to think you’d run off with the crown and left me,” she jokes weakly, but there’s no response- and slowly, the shadow isn’t one but two, and it’s the Ward brothers- the ones that didn’t like Trip. “Trip?”

“He’s long gone, I’m afraid,” the younger one sneers, holding his head haughtily. “Look out there.”

He juts his chin towards the sea, where a boat is sailing- Trip at the helm. Skye swallows hard, tears blurring her vision.

“A pretty fair trade- you for the crown,” the older one speaks now, and the younger one snickers.

But before either of them can advance on her, there’s the crack of rock against skull, and both of them are on the ground. Jiaying comes out of the mist, concern and fear on her face. “Skye?”

“Mother?” Skye asks, confused, as Jiaying wraps her in her embrace. “How did you-?”

“I was coming to find you and I saw them- try to attack you,” Jiaying replies, running a hand over her head. “Are you alright?”

“You were right,” Skye whispers, tears forming. “You were right, about everything.”

Jiaying holds her closer, stroking her hair.

“There, there, darling. It’s alright. Mother’s here.”

_

Skye hangs her head as Jiaying takes the last blue flower from her hair, the blonde strands loose from their braid and hanging off the bed, curling across the floor in a familiar pattern.

“There. It never happened,” Jiaying said, picking up the basket of wild flowers and standing, heading for the door. “Now, wash up for dinner. I’m making hazelnut soup- your favorite.”

Skye said nothing, gaze on the floor, though she could feel Jiaying’s frown.

“I really did try to warn you, Skye. The world out there- it’s dark, and selfish, and cruel. It takes every ray of sunshine it can find, and it destroys it,” she tells her, and Skye merely continues to stare at the floor, silent. Jiaying sighs, pulling the curtains shut across her doorway, and Skye listens to her footsteps as she walks away.

Slowly, she opens her hands to reveal the flag Trip had gotten for her at the market- she unfurled the dark purple fabric, tracing the golden sun printed on it with her fingertips. She sighed, falling back onto the bed and holding the flag to her heart, staring at the painted pictures decorating her walls and ceiling. She staring at one of the flowers on her ceiling when she frowns, and slowly, she holds up the flag. She looks at the flower again and sits up, hesitant, before it finally clicks.

The suns in every single picture finally come into focus, and as she looks, they seem to light up, painting the room. They’re everywhere- in every picture, every doodle; she can see it, so clearly, and it’s an exact match to the sun on the flag in her hands.

And then it hits her- the faded, foggy memory of the sun above her, golden against the wooden mobile hanging over her head, and a shift to look at two hazy figures that she can easily recognize as the king and queen from the mosaic in the town square. The memory of lowering the shimmering jeweled crown to her head comes back to her, and she stumbles into her vanity, a jar falling with a crash as the truth weighed heavily on her shoulders.

“Skye?” she hears Jiaying call from the stairs. “What’s going on up there? Are you alright?”

Skye comes out of her room to find Jiaying making her way up the stairs. “I’m the lost princess,” the words come out in a jumbled rush, and Jiaying rolls her eyes, huffing.

“Please speak up Skye, you know how much I hate it when you mumble,” she folds her arms, and Skye looks up, nearly shouting the words.

“I am the lost princess! Aren’t I?” she looks at Jiaying this time, waiting to see the older woman’s reaction. She tilts her head a little, jutting her chin. “Did I mumble, Mother? Or should I even call you that.”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Skye? Why would you ask such a ridiculous question, honestly,” Jiaying said, coming forward, but Skye pushed off her arms, stepping back.

“It was you! It was all you,” she says, chest heaving. Jiaying’s face hardened.

“Everything I did, I did to protect _you_ ,” she replies, and Skye shoves her aside, walking down the stairs. “Skye-”

“I have spent my entire life hiding from people because they’ll- because they’re use me for my _power_ ,” Skye rants, continuing down the stairs.

“Skye-” Jiaying tries to interrupt, but Skye turns to face her.

“All this time, I should have been hiding from _you_ ,” she finishes, straightening her shoulders.

“Where will you go?” Jiaying asks, haughty, and Skye swallows. “He won’t be there.”

“What did you do to him?”

“That criminal is to be hanged for his crimes,” Jiaying’s face is lined in delight at Skye’s pained gasp, and the girl takes a step back, heart hammering in his chest.

“ _No_ ,” she whispers, voice thick, and Jiaying comes over to her, taking her hands.

“It’s alright, listen to me,” she says softly. “All of this is as it should be.”

She goes to pat Skye’s head, and Skye catches her wrist.

“No. You were wrong about the world, and you were wrong about me. And I will never let you use my hair again,” she shoves at Jiaying, causing the older woman to stumble into a table- it tipped over, shattering the mirror top and sending shards spilling across the stone floor of the tower. Skye walked away, arms wrapped around herself.

“You want me to be the bad guy? Fine. I’m the bad guy,” Jiaying murmured, picking herself up and squaring her shoulders. When Skye’s back was turned, she picked up a piece of a broken chair, hitting the blonde over the head, stunning her.

She tied her up and gagged her, sitting her on the floor and towering over her.

“When will you learn you’re never going to win against me?” she murmured, trailing her finger down Skye’s cheek as Skye struggled, voice muffled by the gag.

After a little while, they heard the sound of horseshoes on stone, and then- “Skye!”

Skye strained forward at Trip’s voice, and Jiaying’s face scrunched in annoyance before her shoulders relaxed.

“Skye, let down your hair!” he calls, and Jiaying gathers up Skye’s hair, waiting a beat before she tosses it out the window. He reached the top, climbing into the tower. “Skye, thank god, I thought I’d never see you again girl.”

He looks up, seeing her gagged, and his eyes widen in horror. He gasps, stepping forward, and Skye struggles against her bounds, his name desperately muffled by the cloth over her mouth. Jiaying steps up behind him, and there’s the slice of blade through cloth before Trip clutches at his side, falling to his knees. Skye cries out, tears in her eyes.

“Now look at what you’ve made me do, Skye,” Jiaying sneered. “Don’t worry, at least our secret will die with him.”

Jiaying came to untie the chain from the wall, and Skye tried to shoot forward, towards Trip- Jiaying yanked at the chain, pulling her back.

“Stop fighting me, Skye! We’re going where no one will find us,” she yells, and Skye manages to shake the gag off, the white fabric hanging around her neck.

“I will never, ever stop fighting- not for one single second for the rest of my life,” Skye tells her, breathless, eyes large and dark. “I will never stop trying to get away from you.”

Skye swallows before she speaks again. “But if you let me save him, I will go with you.”

Jiaying’s eyes widened, and Trip groaned from his position on the floor, shaking his head. “Skye, no.”

“I will never try to run, I’ll never try to escape- just let me heal him. Then we’ll be together, forever, just like you want. It’ll be just like the way it was- I promise. Just like you want,” Skye stumbled a little over the words, taking a breath. “Just let me heal him. _Please_.”

Jiaying drew herself up, raising an eyebrow. Slowly, she undid Skye’s chains, and immediately used them to chain Trip to the base of the stairs. “In case you get any ideas about following us.”

She threw his arms to the ground and he groaned in pain, and Skye came to his side, hands cupping his face.

“Oh, Antoine,” she murmured, hand skimming down his chest to where his lay against his side, soaked in blood. “I’m so, so sorry. But everything is gonna be okay, I promise.”

Skye gathered her hair in her hands, and Trip raised a hand to stop her, shaking his head. “Skye, no.”

“It’s going to be fine, okay, you just have to trust me,” Skye said, trying to lay her hair over Trip’s stomach, and he stopped her, hands gentle against hers.

“I can’t let you do this,” he says, and Skye gives him the saddest look, lips quirking upwards vaguely.

“And I can’t let you die,” her voice breaks a little.

“But if you do this…you’re…”

“Shh,” Skye cuts him off, her hand cupping his cheek as she gave him a small, soft smile. “Hey. It’s gonna be alright.”

Trip just looked at her, and Skye bent her head, laying her hair over his wound and parting her lips to start singing.

“Skye. Wait,” he said, and she looked up- he lifted his hand, cupping her cheek as he brushed her hair out of her face and back towards her neck. He gathered it all, and with one last burst of strength, surged forward and cut the glimmering blonde strands off, just above her shoulders. He fell back, glass shard slipping out of his hand, and Skye gasped, hands going to her hair.

“Antoine!” she cried, watching as the long strands of blonde began to turn a deep, dark brown with the smallest trace of red in it. “What have you done?”

Jiaying let out a strangled cry, trying to gather up the still-blonde hair, but it turned dark in her arms, and Skye watched in horror as her skin started to wrinkle, her hair turning pure white. She shrieked, tugging her cape over her face and beginning to stumble- in a split-second decision, Skye pulled some of the hair taught as a wire, and Jiaying tripped over it, plunging headfirst towards the ground out the window.

Her cape hit the ground, empty.

Skye rushed back to Trip, kneeling beside him on the ground. She cupped his face, leaning in closer until he coughed, shifting in her arms, and she took his hand.

“Stay with me Antoine, please,” she begged, putting his hand on her now-short hair. “Flower gleam and glow-”

She tried to sing the song, but nothing happened- finally, Trip cut her off. “Skye.”

“What?” she asked, and he twined his fingers with hers, eyes shut.

“You were my new dream,” he murmured, and her lip trembled, tears filling her eyes.

“And you were mine,” her voice breaks, and Trip’s lips curved into a half-smile before his grip on her hand loosened, and his body went slack as he stopped breathing. Skye looked at him, tears clinging to her lashes. She leaned forward, forehead touching his, and finished the lullaby through her tears.

A few of them fell on Trip’s skin- and then, to her disbelief, dissolved into his skin in a flare of golden light in the shape of a flower. She looked down, amazed, as the golden light spilled out of the stab wound, twining through the air around them. It formed a final, breathtaking flower over the wound before it sank into his skin, closing the jagged hole.

Trip took a breath and she gasped, leaning forward.

“Skye?” he asked, voice hoarse, and she beamed, leaning closer to him. “Did I ever tell you I have a thing for brunettes?”

Skye gave a watery laugh at that before she launched herself at Trip, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly- his hand came to span her back, holding her against him as he buried his face in her neck. She pulled back, hands framing his face, before she leaned down, kissing him soundly as he sighed underneath her.

“C’mon- let’s get you home,” she shivered happily at the words and nodded, bending forward to kiss him one more time.

_

Phil and Melinda looked up at the door being slammed open- Steve stood in the doorway, breathless, and gave a slow, simple nod. Both their eyes widened, and they looked at each before Melinda was out of her seat, book forgotten, and Phil was close behind her. They reached the door to the balcony, and both paused- Melinda looked up at Phil, who looked back at her with blue eyes she’d fallen in love with the day she’d met him. He smiled at her, cupping her cheek briefly, and then together they pushed the doors open.

At the railing stood a girl in a purple dress and short-cropped brunette hair, so similar to Melinda's it made her chest ache, holding the hand of a taller, dark-skinned man- they both turned at the sound of the doors, and both Phil and Melinda stopped breathing. Melinda took a step forward, and so did the girl; Phil hung back, and watched as his wife cautiously approached her. She lifted a hand, touching the young woman’s face with a whisper of a touch, and her shoulders sagged in relief as she gave a small, teary chuckle.

The girl echoed it, beaming with tears in her eyes, and Melinda wrapped her into a tight hug, arms around her. “Daisy,” her name left Melinda’s throat in the most relieved-sounding voice Phil had ever heard, and he took a step forward- Daisy lifted her eyes, dark and damp with tears but so, so warm, and his shoulders dropped as he wrapped both his wife and long-lost daughter into a tight hug.

Together they sank to the ground, Daisy secure between the two of them, and the missing puzzle piece for all three of them finally fit into place after eighteen years.

Trip watched with a fond smile until Melinda opened her eyes and looked at him- after a moment she extended her hand, and with a yank, added him to the embrace, drawing a giggle from Daisy. They stayed like that for a while, until Phil’s knees protested and they all drew apart.

“We don’t have to call you Daisy, if you…had another name,” Melinda starts, once they’ve begun to make their way back into the palace. Skye considers it for a moment before she shakes her head, keeping her arm linked through the queen’s- her mother’s.

“I’ve never quite felt like a Skye, and I don’t want anything that reminds me of Jiaying,” she replies, giving her a soft smile. “I like Daisy. It...it feels like home.”

Melinda smiled, touching her daughter’s cheek with soft fingertips, unable to stop looking at her. Daisy flushed, unused to such abashed affection, and ducked her head. Melinda’s finger was soft under her chin until she looked up at her again.

“We never gave up hope,” she whispered, and Daisy feels her chest tighten. “We always knew you’d come home to us, somehow. We’ve missed you so much, Daisy.”

“Sorry it took me so long,” Daisy replied, giving a watery half-smile, and Melinda pulled her into another embrace- Daisy had never felt so loved and protected before, and she buried her face in her mother’s neck, inhaling the scent of oranges that seemed to cling to her.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” they both look up at Phil’s stern King Voice, and Daisy stifles a laugh at Trip’s terrified face.

“I love her, sir,” he stammers out, and Phil glares at him for another moment before he softens, clapping a hand on his shoulder and smiling.

“Good,” is all he says, and Daisy’s cheeks blush pink as she leans up, kissing his cheek shyly.

The kingdom rejoiced at the return of their princess- the celebrations lasted over a week, though the newly-reunited royal family attended for only a short time, instead spending time getting to know each other. The melancholy of never getting to see their child grow up was something Phil and Melinda would never truly be able to shake- their baby had been taken from them, cruelly. But she’d returned to them a strong, capable young woman they were infinitely proud of, and who they knew would rule their kingdom well when it came time.

Daisy fell into being a princess as naturally as breathing- it was in her blood. She was kind and fair, and eager to listen to anyone that came to her with issues. The kingdom, in turn, adored their princess.

Trip learned to stop stealing- mostly. Phil and Melinda gave him his own room in the palace- away from Daisy’s, forcing him to properly court her, much to Daisy’s amusement. He ate dinner with them every night, though, and both Phil and Melinda could easily see why their daughter had fallen for him.

Providence flourished under the joy of the royal family, and the kingdom had never been happier.

One night, a few days before her birthday, Trip found Daisy leaning against the balcony, staring up at the full moon. He leaned down beside her, elbows on the stone, and nudged her shoulder.

“What’s goin’ on in that brain of yours?” he asked, and she shrugged, smiling.

“I’ve just never felt like this before,” she replied softly, straightening up and looking out at the kingdom, dim in the glow of evening lights, before she turned back to the castle.

“Like what?” he asks, resting his back against the railing and crossing his arms. Daisy searched for the words for a moment before she looked up at him, face lined in contentment.

“I’ve never felt so at home before,” she answered, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I belong here. With my parents, in this kingdom- with you.”

She leaned forward, palm on his chest, and kissed him softly, pulling back and giving him the softest, warmest smile he’d ever seen before she spoke again softly.

“This is my dream come true.”


End file.
